


World Enough and Time

by arysteia



Series: Lex and Clark: the New Adventures of Superman [2]
Category: Lois & Clark: The New Adventures of Superman, Smallville
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-10
Updated: 2012-12-10
Packaged: 2017-11-20 18:35:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/588428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arysteia/pseuds/arysteia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For once Clark has a good excuse for being late.  It involves time travellers.  Lex couldn't possibly take that badly.  Could he?</p>
            </blockquote>





	World Enough and Time

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a reworking of the _Lois & Clark_ episode "Tempus Fugitive", as originally inspired by Rose_Emily's _Lois and Clark go to Smallville_ challenge.

Lex stood at the entrance to his walk-in closet and glared. He prided himself on being a man who always knew exactly what to wear, for any occasion. Armani suit and brand new shirt in the most _exquisite_ shade of claret for dinner at La Petite Fleur (cancelled by voicemail – stakeout at work); Versace jeans and cashmere sweater for a picnic at the zoo (left standing by the meerkat enclosure – small boy fished out of rock pool and rushed to hospital); slacks and pullover for brunch at the corner deli (stood up without explanation or apology – fire alarms ringing in the distance). Tonight, however, was proving a challenge. Just what was the correct ensemble for The Very Last Chance You Will Ever Have To Take Me Out, I Don't Care If The World Is Ending? In the end he sighed and pulled out a red silk shirt. Passion or wrath. It could go either way.

Thirty seven minutes after he was meant to meet Lex for a movie and casual dinner, "nothing fancy", Clark came rushing in, looking even more agitated than usual. Lex opened his mouth to remind him that thirty seven minutes was longer than he'd ever waited for anyone, ever, anywhere, let alone in a crowded multiplex, then closed it again when he spotted the companion Clark had in tow.

"Lex, my god, I'm _so_ sorry, I lost track of time, but you'll never believe why, I was on my way and..."

"Forget it Clark. I've had a great time standing here being jostled by teenagers who think shaved heads are _so_ 2003."

"Really?"

"No. Not really. I'm going home."

"But Lex, honestly, I can explain..."

The other man jumped into Lex's path, something far larger men were generally afraid to do, and stuck out his hand. Lex took it warily, eyeing his dated black suit and bowler hat with suspicion.

"Hello there," the man said cheerfully, in the worst faux British accent Lex had ever heard outside the WB. "I'm terribly pleased to meet you. HG Wells."

"Excuse me?" Lex pulled his hand back.

"HG Wells. You know. The writer?"

"Yes," Lex snapped. "I know the writer. I also know he died in 1946. And while I'm sure he's turning in his grave over the remake, I don't think even Tom Cruise is enough to reanimate the dead. Good evening."

"No, no, my dear boy, I really am HG Wells. I came here in my time machine."

"Right." Lex shoved past him, no longer caring for even the appearance of being polite. "Clark, this is the lamest stunt you've ever pulled. As excuses go it's right up there with junk mail. Call me in another three years, if you've grown up at all."

"It's not a stunt, Lex!" Something in Clark's tone made him stop.

"I assure you, Mr Luthor," the little man agreed, "this is no hoax. Please do me the honour of allowing me to purchase you a cup of coffee in partial penance for making you wait. It was I who detained your friend here, with pressing business."

Against his better judgement, Lex allowed Clark to take his arm and lead him downstairs to a secluded booth in the back of a garishly lit cafe.

Five minutes' waffle about flux capacitors and Lex had to interrupt. "I have a _particle accelerator_ ," he said, "and a team of Nobel laureates working round the clock, and I can't crack the mysteries of time. And you expect me to believe you did it in the nineteenth century?"

"Oh, it's really quite simple. You just... No, perhaps I'd better not."

"Why not?"

"Well knowing you, you'd be back in 323BC before I could blink, with a dose of quinine."

"You _don't_ know me," Lex snapped, "and anyway there are much better anti-malarials these days."

"I rest my case." The little man looked oddly pleased. "And I apologise for the over-familiarity, but I do feel as though I know you. I'm such an admirer of your work. Utopia, you know."

Lex raised an eyebrow.

"Why yes, Mr Luthor. It's why I came. I've been visiting Utopia. Four hundred years in the future. It was founded by Superman’s descendants and it's really quite remarkable."

"Who?" Lex interrupted rudely. If he was going to be told tall tales on a Friday night, he might as well get to enjoy them.

The man smiled indulgently. "Superman. You know, the Man of Steel?"

Lex laughed. "Nietzsche was still big when you were at school, was he?"

'Wells' leaned forward to whisper conspiratorially. "Quite, quite, secret identity, of course. Well anyway..."

Lex looked pointedly at Clark, who had wisely remained silent up till now.

Clark shrugged.

The man began to look worried. "Oh dear. Oh dear dear. I must have come back further than I thought. You're not Superman yet?" He too turned to look at Clark.

Clark looked even more confused than Lex felt.

"Oh dear." The man fluttered like a wet hen. And Lex had more experience of those than he would have liked, thanks to a certain someone.

"Who's Superman?" Clark asked at last.

"Well, I can't say. Not if you don't already know. You have to figure it out for yourself or there will be dire consequences for the space-time continuum."

Lex sighed. This guy wasn't even _good_.

"But you _are_ Kal-El, Last Son of Krypton, though? Strange Visitor from Another Planet?"

Clark gasped and knocked over his double foam double chocolate mochaccino. Lex felt his temper begin to flare. Three weeks they'd been 'dating' and between muggings, attempted rapes, and Lois' incredible penchant for getting into life threatening situations, they still hadn't had The Conversation. Clark had evidently had it with someone else though. Someone who lacked Lex's discretion. He was about to let them both have it when something else the man had said sunk in.

"Hang on." Lex's tone was dangerously low. Clark recognised it and shivered but 'Wells' kept blithely smiling. "You said _descendants_. Metaphorical?"

"No, no. The real thing, my dear boy."

"He got married?"

The little man sighed dreamily. "Oh, yes. It was a beautiful occasion."

"Who did he marry?"

"Oh, I couldn't possibly say."

"Are the children adopted?"

"Of course not. They wouldn't have his powers otherwise, would they? I realise this is a shock, but do think logically."

"That's it." Lex stood up, sweeping his own latte into Clark's lap. "I'm going home, Clark. Do _not_ call. Even in three years."

And with that Lex swept out of the cafe, and out of Clark's life.

* * *

Luthors did not suffer from broken hearts. Luthors did not sit around in their pyjamas. Luthors did not eat rocky road ice cream straight out of the tub. Luthors used eighteenth century Limoges china bowls and silver spoons, and remained properly attired at all times. Lex hugged his hand-embroidered Regency throw cushion more tightly, and contemplated sending out for more ice cream. He was surprisingly upset. He'd managed not to speak to Clark for three years, after all, and done okay, but three days of affectionate and apologetic Clark sitting next to him in the hospital, and three weeks of not-dating, and all the old defences were down. The prospect of Clark getting married and having a family with someone else was excruciating.

There was a knock at the door. Lex got up and stomped over. Clark didn't have the current security codes – _and never would now!_ – but that had never stopped him before.

"What?" he shouted, flinging open the door.

A stranger stood there, beaming. "Hello, Lex," he cried, striding into the hall.

Lex looked him up and down. "Do I know you?" he asked dubiously.

"No, but I know you."

"I very much doubt it. I think I'd remember someone in blue tights and a silver vest."

The man smiled even more widely. "How about blue tights and a red cape? No? But of course, he doesn't share that sort of thing with you, does he? It's myth, and you can't mess with that."

Lex contemplated calling for security.

The man circled like a shark, eyeing Lex up from all angles. " _Lex_. _Luthor_. This is a very special pleasure. I’m Tempus. I’m from the future you and Superman created."

"Get out!"

"A world of peace. A world with no greed or crime." The man flung his arms out theatrically. "A world _so boring_ you’d blow your brains out, but there are no guns."

Lex laughed despite himself.

"I just wanted to meet you. You're a legend, you know. We study you at school."

This actor was way better than the other one. He was a ham, but he had style. As Clark's lame apologies went, this was better than most. Getting this guy at the last minute on a Friday night couldn't have been cheap.

"Anyway, must dash. Just stopped by to say hi, and check out the most credulous, unobservant person in all recorded history."

And right about there the joke stopped being funny.

"I mean really. I know love is _blind_ , but his big disguise is a pair of glasses, and it fools you for seven years? That's just _sad_."

Lex used the voice he reserved for embezzlers, paparazzi, and his father. "I have no idea what you are talking about, but I am _nobody's_ fool."

"Clark Kent, mild mannered reporter..."

"Is really Superman," Lex lied, improvising wildly. "Able to leap tall buildings in a single bound. I _know_."

"Well, now." Tempus looked intrigued. "He _told_ you. That is interesting. Changing history. Tut tut."

"He didn't tell me anything," Lex snapped, with real vitriol. "I figured it out. What do you think I am, _galactically_ stupid?"

Tempus looked mildly peeved, as though Lex had stolen his favourite line. "Well, yes," he said at last. "This throws a spanner in the works. I think I like you. Have you ever considered a life of crime instead of do-gooding?"

Lex resolved to fire his security staff for being so slow to respond to silent alarms.

"No? Oh, well. Shame. You’re really very attractive, and far more intelligent and interesting than I expected." Tempus glanced down at the scratched and crumpled photo of two smiling boys lying on the coffee table. "I’m almost sorry I’m going to ruin your life."

"What?"

"I’m going to kill Superman and destroy Utopia. Sorry."

"Don't be ridiculous." Lex was starting to worry. He always took threats against Clark seriously, whoever made them. Even escaped mental patients who thought they were from the future. "You can’t kill Superman. No one can. He's invulnerable, remember?"

"Unless you could get hold of him when he was a helpless little baby," Tempus said. "And there'd be a lot of kryptonite just lying around, wouldn't there, after the meteor shower? Before you have your scientists pick it all up? Shucks. If only I had a time machine... Oh, wait, I _do_. Smallville 1989, here I come."

And with that he was gone.

* * *

Lex practically wrote off his favourite Porsche on the five mile journey to Clark's apartment, and gave himself what felt like another concussion smacking his head on the doorframe as he raced down the tiny corridor.

"Clark! Clark!" he shouted, kicking the water-stained door.

The door opened and he fell into the apartment. Clark looked up from the couch where he was drinking tea with HG Wells.

Lex committed himself to the will of fate, and without stopping for breath shouted, "Are you really HG Wells, or am I having a psychotic break?"

"No, no, dear boy, you're quite sane. I am he."

"Lex, are you okay?" Clark asked uncertainly.

"I'm fine, but there's some nutcase from the future who thinks Utopia is boring and wants to ruin my life and kill you when you're a baby, and he put my entire security team into some kind of stasis field."

"What? Did you hit your head again?"

"No! Well, yes. But... Mr Wells..."

"Oh, dear!" Wells jumped to his feet. "Tempus? He's here already? That's what I came to warn you about."

"Yes!" Lex sighed with relief. Perhaps he wasn't cracking up after all. "You have to stop him."

"Oh no, dear boy. I've exceeded my bounce back capacity for one trip. _You_ will have to go. Take my time machine."

And perhaps he was.

* * *

If Deloreans made strange time machines, Lex reflected as he buckled in, souped-up Victorian carriages were even weirder. Clark had insisted on coming along, which he was sure broke _all_ the rules of space-time continuity, but Lex had to admit he didn't know how to fight the twenty-fifth century's greatest criminal mastermind all on his own. It made matters _mildly_ better that Clark hadn't stood him up after all, but he was still mad about everything else. Being mocked by a supervillain in tights was the very last straw.

The ride passed in a nauseating rush that had two pints of rocky road threatening to reappear, and with a lurch they were there. The outskirts of Smallville looked exactly the way he remembered them as a child – endless fields of unwavering green hell, broken only by a scorched, smoking furrow. The thought of stepping into it made his blood go cold, but beside him Clark was sweating and beginning to shiver.

"Lex," he said weakly. "Something's wrong."

Something _was_ wrong. Clark was clammy and pale, and looked the way he had that first night, strung up on a cross in this very field. Lex pulled off his jacket and tucked it around him.

"It's okay. Stay here. I'll handle it."

Clark moaned, but there was no time to waste. Lex ran headlong into the cornfield, batting stalks aside as they tried to catch him, pulling at his clothes and scratching his face. He ran for what seemed like miles, till he felt the heat of the crash site, and then he saw it, a tiny little gun-metal grey capsule in the middle of a burnt out crater. The ship was open, and inside the most beautiful child Lex had ever seen was struggling to climb out. He kept slipping as he neared the edge, and as Lex got closer he could see why. The cradle of the ship was full of glowing green rocks. The boy slipped a last time, falling right back into the cradle, and lay there crying softly.

Lex took a deep breath and jumped down into the crater. The heat was searing, burning right through his shoes, but he barely noticed as he ran towards the baby.

"It's okay, it's okay," he whispered urgently, pulling the boy into his arms. "I've got you now, everything will be all right."

The baby whimpered and nuzzled into Lex's neck. Lex held him tighter and climbed back out of the crater, careful not to fall onto the scorching earth. Staggering out, he ran as though the fate of the world depended on it – _didn't it?_ – running to get back to Clark, to get away from the meteors. The _kryptonite_. 

Clark was sitting in the middle of the road.

"Clark?" Lex called urgently. "What are you doing? I've got him, let's go."

"Very nice, Lex," a mocking voice commended him. "I really did underestimate you. Put the boy down."

Lex's heart stopped as Tempus stepped out into view, holding a bizarre, futuristic weapon.

"Note to self," he continued, "next time _kill_ the victim, don't leave him to die a lingering, painful death."

"Stay away from him!" Lex screamed. "I mean it!"

"Or you'll _what_?" Tempus sneered, crossing the road towards them.

"I'll introduce you to the wonders of twentieth century technology," Lex shouted, diving for the verge and desperately hoping the baby had recovered enough that he wouldn't crush him in the fall.

"What? What the...?"

A horn blared furiously, and a battered red truck swerved to avoid Clark as he struggled to his feet, careening wildly across the road before striking Tempus dead on, then flipping to land upside down a hundred yards further up the road.

Lex groaned and tried to sit up, badly winded. The boy smiled at him, and reached out a hand to stroke his temple, then clambered to his feet and ran off down the road.

"No, wait! Come back!" Lex reached for him, but he was too quick, and a second later Clark was hauling him to his feet.

"It's okay. Let him go." Clark's voice was full of wonder. " _It's my parents_."

They stood there hand in hand as Jonathan Kent kicked out the back window of the truck and climbed out, dragging Martha after him. Lex was about to pull Clark back into the corn, but there was no need. The Kents had spotted the baby, and weren't looking anywhere but into his big green eyes.

* * *

Back in Metropolis, HG Wells congratulated them both on a job well done, and left, promising to see to it that the Interstellar Police picked up Tempus and confiscated his stolen time machine. Lex sighed and lay back on Clark's ratty couch, moaning softly while Clark applied ointment to his burned feet.

"All's well that ends well, huh?" Clark asked cheerfully. "I swear to God, next time some dead writer stops me in the street I'll tell him I've got a date and can't stop."

"Yeah."

"You're not still mad are you?" Clark asked, suddenly nervous. "I really am sorry."

"I know you are," Lex said gently. "And I'm not mad. I just don't think there should be any more dates."

"But Lex!" Clark pleaded. "It's not my fault. I'm not responsible for every wacko that comes to Metropolis."

"I know. But there's no point persisting in something that isn't meant to be."

"Just give me one more chance, Lex! Please!"

The puppy dog eyes just made Lex mad.

"People think I'm stupid! I go down in history as your witless foil, unable to see what's right in front of me!"

"And that's the problem? Your ego?" Clark snapped back, letting Lex's foot fall painfully to the floor.

Lex sighed, and closed his eyes against the light which suddenly seemed too bright.

"No, it's not. I just can't stand to go through all this with you again, and know it's not going to work out. You heard what he said. You get married and have kids, and have the perfect life, and there's no place for me in that. I'm glad we're friends again, I really am, but let's just leave it at that."

"Lex..."

Clark sounded heartbroken, but Lex didn't look at him, just limped towards the door. He'd have to inch along, barest pressure of his foot on the accelerator, but he'd make it home. He'd break the journey at the 7-11 on the corner, and buy out their entire stock of rocky road. Which he might just eat in bed, out of the cartons, in his pyjamas, Luthors be damned. Stripy flannel was the only choice for _this_ occasion.


End file.
